


Hidden Sickness

by dancergrl1



Category: FBI (TV 2018)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hidden illness, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, sick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 08:17:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18257378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancergrl1/pseuds/dancergrl1
Summary: Prompt was "Character hides illness, other one finds out." I put a very FBI Spin on it. And also decided i was hurting OA enough, time to hurt someone else.





	1. Coming down

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt was "Character hides illness, other one finds out." I put a very FBI Spin on it. And also decided i was hurting OA enough, time to hurt someone else.

It was easy to hide. A cough smothered here, a nose covertly wiped there, it was simple. She was sweating because it was warm, because the office heater was screwed up again. She was slow because her ankles were bothering her from that night out. 

She wasn't sick. She couldn’t be sick. She didn’t have time to be sick.   
\---  
OA noticed it first. The carefully smothered coughs in an elbow, the sweatshirt that she normally wrapped up in discarded underneath the desk, too hot to even be on the back of the chair, her suit jacket draped lazily over the back as well. It just wasn’t like her. 

They stood shoulder to shoulder, listening to the briefing and tasks for the day. The heat coming off of her was unbearable. He didn’t know how she was still standing. 

Scratch that, he did know. Sheer force of will. 

He felt her balance waver and automatically put out a hand to steady her on the way out of Dana’s office. She shook it off roughly, a hand coming up to her head before she stalked off to the office kitchenette. When she returned with a cup of water, he has to say, he’s surprised. 

“Maggie,” he starts hesitantly, “Are you feeling alright?” 

She nods, not speaking. She doesn’t want to think about the fact it’ll hurt to speak with how dry and scratchy her throat feels. She doesn’t want to admit she couldn’t bring herself to lie to him. 

OA has to accept her answer for now. He can’t call her on the carpet, not here. He knows she’d never forgive him.   
\---  
Maggie refuses to admit that she feels worse as the day goes on. Her continuous trips to the kitchenette were surely beginning to arouse suspicion, especially from her partner. He noticed everything. But she felt like she couldn’t sit still. By the time lunch came around, she was grateful for the reprieve from his searching gaze. Every time he flipped a page he glanced at her. 

“I’m headed out for lunch. I’ll be back later.” She expects his reply, and he doesn’t fail her. 

“Let me join you. It’ll be nice to get out of the office.” 

“OA, I’ll be fine. It’s just a lunch, not nuclear war.” She doesn’t want him to know how poorly she’s actually feeling.

He steps back, knowing he’s proverbially overstepped. “Alright. Just...be careful.” He knows it’s a silly phrase to use, but he can’t help but feel his heart sinking with dread. 

Needless to say, he doesn’t eat much for lunch.   
\---  
Maggie doesn’t actually plan on getting anything for lunch. She doesn’t think she could stomach anything anyways. She gets a sports drink, she doesn’t notice which, at a store down the street. She sits in a plaza a few blocks down, in a protected corner. (She hated that she couldn’t turn the FBI agent in her off.) She watches New York go by in a daze, sipping at the artificial tasting drink in front of her. It’s not her favorite, for sure, but it does. She glances at her watch and realizes her reprieve is over. Back to reality. 

Upon her return to the office, she’s not surprised to see her stack of paperwork has lessened, while OA’s had grown. It was his first line of defense when he sensed all was not right. However, just for today, she wouldn’t protest. She wasn’t sure why, but it would be nice not to have to do so much work. Maybe if she wasn’t feeling quite so miserable, she’d be able to protest. She just couldn’t find it in her. 

OA waits for the reaction, the explosion of her anger when he takes over half her pile of paperwork. He doesn’t expect her to be so cordial and almost pleased with it. Now something is really wrong. He continues keeping an eye on her throughout the day, having asked Jubal and Dana to keep them in if it was possible. They had, noticing her deteriorating condition as well. 

He leaves, before she does, knowing if he waits, he’d be there all night. Maggie was consistent like that. 

She watches him go, thankful to be under one less pair of eyes. Jubal and Dana stay late, keeping watch. She ignores them as best she can. 

The third time she shakes herself awake, she resigns herself to returning home. 

Jubal breathes a sigh of relief. She wasn’t subtle on a good day. Today definitely wasn’t. He covertly sends a text, updating someone. Asking them for help.   
\---  
Maggie climbs into her car, and lets out the heaving, wet cough she’s been holding in. She coughs until she’s convinced her lungs will come up. She wouldn’t wish this on anyone. 

She begins her drive home, and is lucky to arrive there. She didn’t remember much about getting there, just that she was. 

She falls into bed gratefully, not hearing the knocking on the door, nor the doorbell.   
\---  
OA is worried. Every once in a while, he can hear serious coughing, a groan, and then silence. He hunts around for the spare key he knows she keeps, but he can’t find it. 

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, he finds it behind a loose brick. Damn her for making it so complicated. He lets himself in and follows the sounds to the back most bedroom, where he finds the bed, also shoved into the furthest corner. There was something terribly off about that, but he didn’t let himself dwell on it. He had other worries. 

She was draped over the bed, and had clearly not changed upon arrival home from the office. When she’d gotten home, he didn’t want to wonder. He shook her gently, feeling the unnatural heat of her skin. “Maggie. Maggie, c’mon, wake up.” Please wake up, he thought. He pushed the thought away. Now was so not the time. 

Her eyes propped themselves halfway open, and OA could see the fever glazing them. Her lopsided smile told him she wasn’t totally there. “Heeey,” she got out. Then she realized the situation. “Why...why you here?” She definitely wasn't all there. 

“Because a little birdie told me you were ill, and needed someone to help you. So i came.” 

Maggie just let her head drop down to her chest. She was so tired. Why couldn’t she just sleep? 

OA wrangled her into more comfortable clothes. She didn’t protest too much, but she didn’t offer much assistance, either. When he laid her down again, he started to put the blankets over her. “No.” she whimpered. 

“Maggie?” 

“Too...too hot.” He conceded and covered her with the sheet. He retreated to the living room, sitting with his head in his hands. Why hadn’t he seen it? For that matter, how hadn’t he seen it? 

He hears another harsh spate of coughing and goes to check on her. She’s sitting up, looking absolutely miserable. He gets a bottle of water and offers it to her. She takes it gratefully, not even questioning it. She sips at it, and he stays, sensing something on her mind.

“I must’ve really done it this time, if someone’s sent you.” So she did remember their earlier conversation. 

“It doesn’t help that you were sweating like the office heater went haywire.” 

She shrugs. It had felt like it. “Needless to say, we’re both under stand down until you’re 100% again.” She couldn’t find it in herself to care. 

OA was concerned by her lack of answer. Normally she fought stand down with everything in her. She hated being idle. She must’ve felt miserable. 

He left the room, and she fell asleep. 

For the first time all day, she felt comfortable. 

He would be lying if he said he didn’t feel the same.


	2. Recovered, Connected

Maggie woke sweating and panicking all in the same breath. She couldn’t have told you what caused her distress, but it was there all the same. She heard feet crossing her floor and cursed. She forgot that there had been someone here with her. 

She also acknowledged the leap of emotion in her heart when she realized he was still here. 

She waited for him to show up in her doorway, and he didn’t disappoint. Upon seeing she was awake, he took a deep breath to calm himself. “Are you alright?” His voice was so soft, so comforting, so...unlike him. 

She drew a deep breath...well, as best she could, and responded softly. “Yeah...I’m alright.” She really didn’t want to ask the next question, her pride barely wanted to let her, but she felt awful. She barely knew what time of day it was. Her deep red flush worried OA, but he sensed there was something more than a fever causing it. 

“Maggie?” 

He studied her while he waited for her answer. He didn’t expect it. 

“Why...why did you stay?”

His heart, he swears, breaks in its space. “Why wouldn’t I?” 

Maggie can’t look at him. She can’t face the emotions that will flicker across his face, the facade she’s come to depend on changing and falling because she broke it. Who knew how long it took him to build that up? She’s interrupted by his voice. 

“Maggie.” It’s no longer an inquiry. It’s an order. She looks at him, feverish and anxious, and swallows hard. He asks her again. “Why wouldn’t I have stayed?” 

Maggie lets it out before she’s conscious of her mouth moving. “Nobody has, before. Except,” she pauses, emotions winning over, “Except Jason.” OA swallows, but stays where he is. He knows right now his presence may be welcome, but it may not be, either. 

“When you’re ready, I’ve made some soup. It’s my mom’s cure-all for everything.” He smiles, and leaves her to it. 

She hauls herself up, reaching out to steady herself when her head swims. It was not a pleasant sensation. She makes her way slowly to the bathroom, an en-suite. Jason had insisted. She pushed the emotions down and robotically went through the motions of showering. She felt cleaner, but it didn’t improve how sick she still felt physically. She dressed in loose, comfortable clothes, but also warm. She felt cool, now that she’d showered off the grime and sweat from sleep. She smelled something, with the clearing help from the steam, and it smelled amazing. She ventured out carefully to her living room, not expecting to find her partner sitting on his phone at the counter. “Anything good in the news?” She can tell she’s surprised him. It’s not often she can startle him. He’s yet to lose the hypervigilance that kept him alive. 

He shuts down his phone, cursing the adrenaline coursing through him at the sound of her voice. He hadn’t known she was behind him. He hadn’t been startled by something like that in a very long time. “Nothing, just the same old political crap we deal with. Enough about that, though. How’re you feeling?” 

She shrugged. It was as close to an answer as she had right now. He ushered her to a seat, placing her favorite soup mug in front of her. “How did...never mind. You probably read my mind.” He didn’t deny it, but it also helped that this was buried way in the back, as if she was ashamed to have one for when she wasn’t well. 

“How is it?” 

She paused as she ate, nodding. It was the first real thing she’d had to eat since she had started feeling unwell. It was incredible, too. She emptied her bowl in record time, and OA wordlessly refilled it. She ate slower this time, actually admiring the different flavors mixed in to the soup. “OA...how do you know how to cook?” 

“I had to learn eventually. Someone had to, and Mam wasn’t up for it. Not after we lost dad.” 

Maggie swallowed her words. He rarely opened up. When he did, it was important to store the information away. She felt like she never knew his entire story. Then, neither did he about hers.

“How’re you feeling, Maggie?” He steered the conversation away from his past. He didn’t need to be reminded. 

“Like i’ve been run over by a truck.” She was point blank honest. No point in beating around the bush. 

“I’d bet. That’s what happens when you let something like this alone.” It wasn’t a reprimand, but it wasn’t meant to be nice, either. 

“I know. I was feeling alright, though.” She hadn’t been, but she refused to miss work. She saw the look of mirth on her partner’s face, and knew she hadn’t sold him. “I was, really. Until I wasn’t.” 

OA was unsurprised she was dodging the question. She was good at it. She often spun it on someone else. It wasn’t often she answered anything straight the first time. She yawned, and he caught it. “C’mon, back to bed with you. You’ll feel better after you sleep.”

She was unsurprised the next time she woke, and she did feel better. 

And he was still there. 

A few days later, she returned to the office. She was more confident, and on a more even ground with her partner. 

She may even go as far as to call them friends.

**Author's Note:**

> Drop ideas!


End file.
